Decisions
by NomDePlume519
Summary: Arthur has made a discovery, and must decide what to do about it. His choice leads to some unexpected results. Deep friendship, no slash NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Arthur took the spare shirt, trousers, and neckerchief that he'd managed to pinch from Merlin's room and put them in the saddlebag. He had already packed a few days worth of food, a pair of waterskins, a blanket, a flint, a few coins, and a small dagger. Satisfied, he headed to the stables to wait for Merlin.

He knew his manservant would be late, again, but he didn't mind this time. Arthur had been putting this trip off for a while now; a few more minutes wouldn't make much difference. He took the reins of both horses from the stable boy, patted and murmured to the animals, and waited. Sure enough, a good 15 minutes later, Merlin came dashing into Arthur's view, red-faced and out of breath.

"I'm sorry, Sire," he managed, "but Gaius had me running errands, and then…"

"It's okay, Merlin," interrupted Arthur easily. "Here's your horse. Get on."

Merlin's face grew even redder. "Oh, I should have saddled these horses for you," he moaned guiltily, taking the reins held out to him.

"Actually, no," declared Arthur. "I asked the stable boy to have it taken care of before we both arrived. I didn't want you to have to work when I'm giving you the afternoon off." His eyes twinkled at Merlin's confusion.

"I have the afternoon off?" repeated Merlin. "Then what are we doing with the horses?"

"Why?" answered Arthur innocently. "Can't two friends spend an afternoon riding together, just for the fun of it?"

Merlin's face suddenly split into a huge, delighted grin, and Arthur couldn't help but respond with a smile of his own, even as his stomach lurched. _But this has to be done_, he told himself. He clapped Merlin on the shoulder, mounted up, and the two rode off into the forest.

Merlin kept up a steady stream of friendly chatter, talking about palace gossip, herb collecting, and just about anything else that came to mind. Years of practice sitting through boring banquets and trade negotiations allowed Arthur to let his mind wander and still be able to sound as if he were following the conversation, answering with an appropriate "yes" or "ummm hmmm" or even just a simple nod.

"Arthur, I'm hardly letting you say anything," Merlin said guiltily after about an hour.

"Don't worry about it, Merlin. I like listening to you rabbit on," Arthur teased. He was rewarded with another goofy grin. Arthur could tell Merlin was really enjoying himself. _I'm glad one of us is_, he thought grimly, and not without some guilt.

A few minutes later they arrived in the open area Arthur had chosen as their destination. He stopped and dismounted, waiting for Merlin to follow suit. "Here, Merlin," he said, handing over his reins, "why don't you lead the horses over there to graze a bit." As Merlin did so, Arthur slid his sword out of its scabbard as silently as possible. He held it lightly across his body, right hand on the hilt, left thumb moving almost absently as if testing the edge.

Merlin turned back around and stopped in surprise at the sight of Arthur's naked sword. He stared at it for a few seconds before his gaze rose slowly to meet Arthur's eyes. All trace of a smile was replaced by wariness and confusion, combined with something else Arthur couldn't quite read.

As soon as their eyes met, Arthur took a commanding step forward. "So, Merlin," he said, his tone deceptively casual, "just how long have you been a sorcerer?

**concrit welcome**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: A ****huge**** thank-you to all of you who reviewed and/or put this on story alert. I found this site and lurked for about a month before getting up enough nerve to actually post a story, and your response was so much more than I'd hoped for. Thank you all.**

**Nightmare-Naka asked me where in the series my story was supposed to fit. After an initial squirm, I answered:**** "I imagine it at the end of season two. In Chapter 2, events from both seasons are briefly mentioned, and I avoided including any characters [in the entire story] who should be absent after season two ends. However, I didn't actually see all the episodes of the second season, so there may be some contradictions, which would make this an AU." There, clear as mud?**

**And because I forgot this last time, disclaimer: BBC, not me.**

**Chapter 2**

"So, Merlin. Just how long have you been a sorcerer?" And Merlin's world came crashing down around him.

"I – I don't know what you mean," he stammered, taking a step backwards, and then another one, panic setting in.

Arthur strode forward, and pointed his sword directly at Merlin's throat. He lifted his chin with the tip, effectively stopping Merlin's backtracking. In a voice much calmer and steadier than Arthur felt, he said, "I _know_, Merlin, and you _know_ I know. You've been caught. So let's skip the part where you protest and lie and try to get out of this. Answer my question. How long?" The last two words were spoken in Arthur's best command voice, calculated to elicit an immediate response.

Merlin's eyes darted desperately back and forth, as if trying to find a way of escape, looked down the length of the sword, and finally closed in defeat. "Since before I can remember," he admitted wearily. "I was born this way." He dared open his eyes a little to see how Arthur was taking this bit of information. Not well.

Arthur's face was set in a cold mask of anger. "Try again," he snapped.

Merlin sighed. "It's the truth, Sire," he said quietly. "I was moving things around with my mind before I could talk." He took a deep breath. "How did you find out?" he asked in a whisper.

"I'm asking the questions," Arthur said sharply. But then, as Merlin closed his eyes again in acceptance, he muttered, "and does it really make any difference?"

"No, I guess it doesn't," said Merlin miserably, finally looking directly at his prince. "I swear to you, though, that my magic is _not_ evil. I have only ever used it for good, and I always will."

Arthur looked at his manservant incredulously. "Magic is _inherently_ evil. Even if you use it for good now, its power will eventually corrupt you. Magic cannot be tolerated in any form." But as Arthur repeated these words he'd heard so often, he couldn't quite reconcile them with the gentle manservant – friend, even – he knew standing in front of him. Merlin always put others before himself, even to the point of being willing to sacrifice his own life to save another – Arthur himself, or Morgana's servant Guinevere…

"Guinevere!" he suddenly burst out. "You're the one who saved Gwen's father from that plague!"

"As I confessed at the time," Merlin confirmed sadly. "I couldn't help it if nobody believed me."

"But why would you even admit to something like that? You must have known my father would kill you." Arthur let the sword tip drop down to his own side. "Any plans you had, any evil you intended to wreak in the castle, would have ended when you were executed."

Merlin smiled sadly. "I told you, Sire, I only use my magic for good. I just want to serve you, to protect you, and to help you to become the great king you are destined to be. I am truly sorry I have had to hide who I really am from you. I've wanted to tell you for a long time, but…"

"But?"

"But I was afraid of how you'd react (_like this!_), I was worried about what the king would do, (_does he know?_), I didn't want you to have to make a choice between me and your father…"

"How noble of you," Arthur said drily.

Merlin flinched at Arthur's tone. "Are – are you going to kill me?" He forced himself to meet Arthur's eyes.

"I haven't decided yet," the prince replied warily. "That depends on you, your answers…Oh, for the Gods' sake, Merlin," he snapped, as he noticed a tear beginning to form in the younger boy's eye. He raised his sword to Merlin's left shoulder, moving it back and forth toward his neck a few times. "My sword is very sharp, and I'm very, _very_ good! You probably won't even feel much of anything at all!" At the look on Merlin's face, he relented a bit and motioned with his sword toward the ground. "Sit down." Merlin didn't move. "Sit!" he commanded, and Merlin quickly did so, hugging his knees to himself as if for protection. Arthur lowered himself down a few feet away and laid the sword across his lap, ready if needed.

"Now talk," demanded the prince, "and tell me everything, all the magic you've done since you've been in Camelot, good or bad, all of it. I want the truth, Merlin, and I want it now."

So Merlin told his story, beginning with his arrival in Camelot, leaving almost nothing out. He did omit Gaius' involvement, Lancelot's knowledge of Merlin's magic, and absolutely everything incriminating about Morgana – he refused to implicate anyone else in what could be considered capital crimes. (And dancing around Morgana's abilities and exploits took quite some doing!) He explained about the Great Dragon, the afanc, Nimueh (several times), the truth about Sophia, his rescue of Freya, what had really happened with the witch hunter – everything. And Arthur didn't interrupt once, tempted though he was, many times. Eventually Merlin stopped talking, and the two just sat there in silence, Merlin resting his voice, and Arthur trying to take it all in.

"So when I recovered from the Questing Beast's bite," Arthur finally said, "and you came to me and said that you were happy to be my servant until the day you die, you really meant it?"

"Yes," answered Merlin, "and I still do. Although at the time I thought Nimueh was going to kill me in a few hours…"

"And instead you killed her." Arthur finished the thought. "Just how powerful are you, Merlin?"

Merlin looked uncomfortable. He really didn't want to answer this. "Well, I'm not exactly sure." At Arthur's pointed gaze, he added, "Very. I'm very powerful. I just don't know the real extent of my powers, because I keep discovering new things I can do." He trailed off. _Idiot_, he berated himself, _probably not the sort of thing you should say if you want to keep your head!_

Arthur got up and started pacing. He had a decision to make. And it was a big one.

**okay, so I like cliffies!**

**concrit welcome**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry about the double alert for chapter 2; I was still learning how to add a chapter. I think I can do it right this time. **** And thank you again to all of you who reviewed and/or put this on story alert. I appreciate it more than you can know.**

**And again, my disclaimer: BBC; not me**

**Chapter 3**

Merlin watched Arthur walk back and forth, back and forth. The prince had been doing this for a quarter of an hour now, completely in silence, only occasionally glancing at the young warlock. Mostly he looked at the ground, or at the sword he absently twirled, or even off into the distance. Merlin was desperate to know what Arthur was thinking, but he was afraid to interrupt his train of thought. So he sat in silence, still hugging his knees, trying to make himself look as small and innocuous as possible.

Finally Arthur heaved a big sigh and returned to his seat across from Merlin. He regarded the boy with an unreadable expression, one he used to great advantage in his father's court. Merlin felt the butterflies in his belly flutter anew.

"Merlin," began Arthur quietly but firmly, "when we left the stables today, I knew that one of two things would happen. And either way, I would be returning alone." Merlin swallowed hard and nodded, waiting. "First, I might banish you from Camelot, and send you home to Ealdor. I even packed a saddlebag for you. As long as you stayed away from Camelot, I would keep your secret from my father, and you could live your life in peace in Cendred's or any other kingdom. If you ever returned to Camelot, however, I would denounce you to my father, and you would face certain arrest and execution."

Merlin was surprised that Uther didn't already know, and even further astonished that Arthur would keep his secret after banishment. After all, once Merlin was gone, what was there to protect?

"The second," Arthur was continuing, "I think you know." He took a shaky breath and blew it out. "You _are_ my friend, Merlin, despite all – _this_. And I could never have handed you over to my father – he'd have been beside himself, a sorcerer in _his_ castle, living so close to the Crown for so long – he would never have settled for a simple beheading. He would have tortured you unmercifully, and then had you burned alive, very, very slowly, as an _example_ to all," Arthur said bitterly. He looked at Merlin, pleading for him to understand. "I just couldn't let that happen to you. I'd rather take care of it myself, quick and clean and as painlessly as possible."

Merlin nodded and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He supposed if he had to die, he'd rather it be at Arthur's side, regardless of the circumstances. "Would you say goodbye to Gaius for me?" he asked, picking at the end of his sleeve.

"What?" asked Arthur, surprised. "Oh, of course I will. I'll take care of it, you have my word." His Prince voice was back.

"And my mother – could you get word to her? Tell her I love her." The tears were threatening to spill, but Merlin was determined _not_ to cry.

"What are you talking about?" asked Arthur in confusion.

Merlin took a deep breath and raised his eyes to meet Arthur's. "I'm ready, then. I assume you want me kneeling," he said, trying to stop his voice from shaking. Damnit, he _would_ be brave!

"What?" Arthur asked, sounding completely baffled. And then – he got it. "Oh, no, Merlin! No, I didn't mean that, Gods, no. I've already decided not to execute you!" He suddenly noticed the sword still in his hand, and muttering an oath, tossed it well aside. He reached across, grabbed Merlin by both shoulders, and raised him up, holding him at arm's length, looking unflinchingly into his friend's glistening eyes.

"You idiot," he said affectionately, and gathered him into an embrace. Merlin finally let go of all the stress and pain and terror of the day, and sobbed onto Arthur's shoulder. "It's okay, Merlin, you're safe, I promise," Arthur murmured, and he held Merlin close, patting his back and stroking his hair as he would a small child. Part of him wondered what his father would say, seeing the two of them like this, but right now Arthur didn't much care. This wasn't about prince and peasant, master and servant – it was about deep friendship; Merlin needed him, and he would be damned before he would let his friend down! Arthur stood as strong as his friend needed him to be, carefully unknotting the neckerchief he had always poked fun at and using it to wipe Merlin's tears. Eventually the flood subsided to sniffles, and then to embarrassed hiccups, and finally Arthur guided his friend back down to sit, this time perching alongside him in companionable silence. They had both accepted that Merlin would be leaving soon for Ealdor, and that it might be a long time before they saw each other again – if ever. By unspoken agreement, they prolonged their time together as much as possible, speaking little, just being content in each other's company.

"Arthur," said Merlin, after a while, "how _did_ you find out?"

Arthur sighed. "It wasn't any one thing, really. I've suspected for quite a while. Things just … didn't always add up. But I had to be sure. So I waited, and watched. I've been certain for about two weeks. It took me that long to get up the courage to confront you, actually." Arthur gave a rueful smile. "I can go out and face all manner of enemies with a sword in my hand, but facing down my skinny idiot of a manservant terrified me."

"Why?" Merlin asked, surprised. "You didn't really think I'd hurt you?"

"Honestly?" Arthur answered. "I wasn't completely sure. But no, I didn't think so, not on purpose. I guess I was more afraid of being right – and losing the best friend I've ever had. And if you ever repeat that to anyone, I'll deny I ever said it!" he finished vehemently. Merlin laughed, and they lapsed into silence once more.

After a while: "Gaius knows, doesn't he?" Merlin picked at some blades of grass and said nothing. Arthur snorted. "I'm not going to arrest him, or anything. You can tell me."

Merlin looked up. "Sorry. It's just…I'm so used to hiding it. Yes, Gaius knows," he admitted simply. "I suppose it would be hard for him not to."

"Who else?"

"Nobody else in Camelot," said Merlin carefully.

Arthur noted that Merlin had given a rather cryptic answer, but chose to let it pass, and contented himself with watching his friend shred more grass for a while.

"I'm sorry I had to lie to you," said Arthur several minutes later. At Merlin's blank look, he elaborated, "two friends, riding together for the fun of it?"

"Oh. That." Merlin swallowed. He'd almost been able to forget that part.

"I saw how happy it made you," mumbled Arthur. "I wish it could really have been that way."

"Well," allowed Merlin, "it kind of was. Until it wasn't. I did enjoy the part that was." And they exchanged weak smiles before looking away again in silence.

"You could have gotten away, couldn't you," said Arthur a few minutes later.

"When?"

"Any time. Today, if I'd decided to execute you. But you would have let me do it anyway."

"Yes, and yes." Merlin shredded a rather long blade of grass between his fingers, then let it drop.

"And if my father had arrested you and sentenced you to the flames?"

"I could have escaped. I don't know if I would have. Probably, though. I have to be alive if I'm going to protect you. And protecting you is, well, something I have to do"

"So why would you have let _me_…you know?"

Merlin sighed. "I guess – I felt that if _you'd_ lost faith in me, I didn't have much left to live for anyway. Everything I do is for you, Arthur. If you want me dead, I guess I should be dead."

Arthur let out a curse and got up, pacing angrily for a few moments. And then, "No, no, NO, Merlin!" He stopped and stared down at the startled warlock. "You have been willing to sacrifice your life to save mine – something I never asked for, by the way – and I am grateful. But you are _never_ to sacrifice yourself for something as stupid as an ill-conceived law, my father's blindness, or what you perceive to be my feelings. Is that understood?"

Merlin couldn't help himself; he grinned. "Understood, Sire," he said. "I'll keep myself alive, I promise – until you need me again, that is."

"Idiot" muttered the prince, somewhat mollified.

Merlin stood, also. "It's getting late," he said reluctantly. "You probably want to get home before the king starts sending out search parties for you. And I guess I should be leaving, too. You know, gotta start my banishment and all." His attempt at levity fell flat.

"Yeah, about that," said Arthur, a curious expression on his face, "maybe there's something we can do about that after all."

Merlin felt his heart jump. Had he heard correctly? Had Arthur just said there might be a way to avoid being banished from Camelot?

"What I was trying – and obviously failing – to tell you before," said the prince, "was that when we left today, I knew that I would be returning alone, as indeed I will be. But maybe there's a way you can come home soon, maybe make your trip to Ealdor just a visit instead of a banishment."

Merlin felt himself gasping for air, pouncing on the smallest hope. "Anything, Arthur. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do!" He knew he sounded desperate, but at this point, he didn't care.

Arthur smiled sadly. "Actually, Merlin, you have already done your part. You told me your story. Now I have to go home and think about it, try to absorb what it all means. Everything I know about you tells me that your magic is not evil. I believe you when you say that you've only used it to protect me and to keep Camelot safe. But everything I have been taught _before_ today tells me the opposite. Magic is evil. It corrupts all those it touches. I have to reconcile the two, Merlin. I'll probably talk to Gaius, carefully, of course. I'm certain he can help me work through this."

Merlin nodded. "He's very wise about these sorts of things," he confirmed.

"And then I have to decide if I can live with the knowledge that a sorcerer is living in the castle, right under my father's nose," Arthur continued. "I mean, I know I've gone against my father before – to get the Morteus flower, to save the Druid boy, to rescue Guinevere – but those were single events, lasting a day or two, and I was willing to face the consequences. But this – this would be every single day for the rest of my father's life. I'd be breaking the king's highest laws, committing treason against Camelot, in his eyes, betraying him. I have to decide whether I can live with that – and, conversely, whether I can live with myself if instead I banish someone who, it turns out, has been my greatest protector and most loyal friend."

"I never wanted you to have to make that decision," whispered Merlin.

"I know," said Arthur sadly. "But here we are. So. I am going to go home and ponder all this, and as soon as I've made my decision, I will send you a message letting you know whether to return to Camelot or to stay in exile. Fair enough?"

Merlin nodded. "Fair enough," he agreed. They walked a few steps towards the horses. "Arthur," Merlin said in a small voice, "I had always hoped I would be able to tell you myself someday. I'm sorry I had to keep it from you."

Arthur nodded. "I understand why you did. It can't have been easy."

"No." Merlin paused a moment, and then resolutely faced his prince. "Here is something that may help you with your decision, then," he said, and dropped to his knees, reaching for one of Arthur's hands and clasping it between both of his own. "I, Merlin," he said solemnly, staring unflinchingly into Arthur's eyes, "pledge my life to yours, Arthur Pendragon. My life, limb, _and magic_ are yours to command from now until the day I die. This I so swear." He kissed Arthur's hand in fealty before releasing it, and bowed his head, awaiting the prince's reaction.

Arthur was both stunned and deeply moved. This was _Merlin_, Merlin who called him a prat on a regular basis, who never seemed to know his place, who rarely bowed, and who had never even once knelt to Arthur the whole time they'd known each other. Merlin, who had shown himself to be Arthur's most loyal and trusted friend, had just spoken a vow that both would consider as binding as that of any knight to his king.

Arthur swallowed before he could trust himself to speak. "Rise, Merlin," he said, reaching out his hand to assist, as was customary, although the words he spoke were not. "I…accept your pledge, my friend. And I thank you."

Merlin nodded, and they walked the rest of the way to the horses in silence. Arthur gave Merlin the packed saddlebag, and quickly showed him what provisions were inside. They both mounted up. "Um, whether you come back to Camelot or not," said Arthur, "the horse is yours. His name is Whisper. I think the stable boys named him, but you can call him whatever you wish."

"Whisper's fine," said Merlin. Both were ready to leave, but neither was actually going anywhere. "It's been an honor to serve you, Sire," Merlin said quietly. "On three then?"

Arthur smiled and nodded. "Only you, Merlin," he chuckled. Together they counted "One…two…three…" And on three they nudged their horses, headed in opposite directions, and as much as they both wanted to, neither looked back.

**xxxxx**

**concrit welcome**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks again to all who have reviewed and/or put this story on alert. And without further delay – more angst!**

**Chapter 4**

Merlin sat at the table with his mother, eating a rather watery vegetable soup and complaining.

"Eight days! I've been here eight whole days without a single word from Arthur. What could be taking him so long?"

"Merlin," said Hunith calmly, "Eight days isn't really that long."

"What, one day to talk to Gaius," Merlin went on, "you know, get the whole speech about how" here Merlin dropped into a fair imitation of Gaius' voice, "magic is like a sword, neither good nor evil, it's how one wields it that determines how it is used."

"Merlin!" protested Hunith.

Merlin continued on as if he hadn't heard. "Another day to think about all the help I've given him, all the times I saved his life, and _maybe_ another day to realize how much he misses me because he can't get dressed or wash his royal socks without me. Write a quick note – Come Home Merlin – who needs eight days for that?"

"Eat your soup," said Hunith with gentle exasperation. "Maybe it's not as easy for Prince Arthur as you think. He does have to worry about breaking his father's laws, you know. He might decide it's safer for you to stay here."

"I know," said Merlin somberly, lifting another spoonful of soup from his bowl, "but even that decision shouldn't take eight days! This waiting is killing me!" He ate in silence for a while. He had to admit, he'd missed his mother's soup while he was in Camelot. It was delicious.

"Maybe," said Hunith, "he just wanted to make sure you got a nice long vacation with your old mum before calling you back to work." They grinned at each other, the tension broken. Merlin collected the dishes and began washing them. Then he went outside to see if any of the villagers needed any odd jobs done.

Merlin had discovered that, unlike when he was a boy, now he seemed to fit in here in Ealdor. He didn't know if it was because he had come back with Arthur, Morgana, and Gwen to fight Kanan and his men, or if it was simply because he was an adult now, but people seemed to respect him and accept him without question as part of the community. Merlin still kept his magic secret. But he spent his days helping people, doing whatever needed to be done (with occasional judicious use of his gifts). Yesterday he had helped Old George fix a leaky roof. The day before that he had worked in the fields. Today Edwina, a widow with four children, was sitting in the sun outside her front door with a large basket of mending, so Merlin pulled up a chair and began to help her.

"Merlin! What are you doing?" Edwina cried in surprise as he took a shirt from her basket.

"Mending this shirt," replied Merlin easily. "Unless you'd rather I darn those socks over there."

"You darn socks?" Edwina was holding her mending close against her chest in shock.

"Darn socks, fix leather boots, sew seams, mend rips, fix chain mail, attach buttons…Prince Arthur is always needing something repaired, and he usually needs it done ten minutes ago!" Merlin laughed as he selected a needle from her pincushion and threaded it. "Trust me, Edwina, I know what I'm doing." After a few stitches, he gave her a conspiratorial grin and said, "Do you want to know the best thing about doing the royal mending? You can do it with your friends, and there's always great gossip to share!" At her gasp, he gave her a wink, and began regaling her with a few outrageous stories about court life. Within a short while, there was a whole group of women around and in front of Edwina's door, each with her own basket of mending, laughing and talking as if they were at a party. Hunith was there, too, sewing quietly, watching her son enjoying himself. She was so proud of the man he'd become.

The children knew it first, running up the road to tell the adults. "A rider's coming, a fancy rider!" Merlin jumped up from his chair, vaulted over the mending baskets, and raced down the dirt road to meet the rider. Surely this must be it!

The horse and rider came into view, both decked out regally in Pendragon colors. Merlin's heart was pounding. Would it be a formal summons, then, with all kinds of fancy words and seals? Or would Arthur just have written him a regular friendly letter, saying he could come home now, that everything was fine? He was beside himself with anticipation.

The rider stopped in front of Merlin. "I have a message for Merlin of Ealdor," he said stiffly.

"I am Merlin," he replied, reaching out his hand. Good, his voice hadn't shaken. Oh, but his hand _was_ trembling. Damn! _Stay calm, breathe_… The messenger handed over a folded piece of parchment, affixed with Arthur's personal seal. Merlin took a deep breath, broke the seal, opened the parchment, and eagerly looked at the message inside. He read it again. He stared at it, uncomprehendingly. It was only four words: Merlin, I'm sorry. Arthur.

Merlin couldn't breathe. He kept staring at those four words, willing them to change, to mean something else. _Merlin, I'm sorry. Arthur_

"Is there a reply?" the messenger asked.

Startled, Merlin looked up. "What?" _Merlin, I'm sorry. Arthur_

"Is there a reply?" the messenger repeated. Merlin shook his head. The messenger wheeled his horse around and rode away.

Merlin walked slowly back to his mother's house, trying to make sense of what had just happened. _Merlin, I'm sorry. Arthur_ Of course he had known it was possible that Arthur would tell him not to come back, _Merlin, I'm sorry. Arthur_ but he'd never really believed it would happen that way. _Merlin, I'm sorry. Arthur_ He belonged in Camelot. Arthur needed him. _Merlin, I'm sorry. Arthur_ And now, just like that, he could never return, and Arthur had given no explanation whatsoever for his decision. _Merlin, I'm sorry. Arthur_

Merlin found himself on his bed, still holding the message, the letters bleeding and the words running together as raindrops fell on them. No, not rain, tears. He was crying. And suddenly his mother was there, holding him the way she had when he was little, and Merlin was sobbing as if his heart would break, because maybe it had, and his whole world had fallen apart, and he had failed at his destiny, and the only reality he had left was _Merlin, I'm sorry. Arthur_.

xxxxx

**concrit welcome**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sir Robert is my own OC, meant to replace Sir Leon. If you think there's any way Sir Leon survived season 2, feel free to swap him in your mind instead.**

**And many more thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed, alerted, and favorited. (My computer says "favorited" isn't a word. I don't care; you know what I mean and who you are!) You keep me going.**

**Chapter 5**

_Dear Gaius,_

_ Thank you for sending me the parcel of clothes and other things I left behind. It is good to have everything back again, especially my book and my spare neckerchiefs. But please do not send me any more news about Arthur. I don't think I can bear it right now._

_ I can't tell you how much I miss you and everyone else in Camelot. I'm doing all right here, at least for now. I still do odd jobs for people when they need help, but most often I work in the fields. Once a week the women and I get together to mend socks and gossip – my idea! Sometimes I go herb collecting. It's amazing how much I learned from you, Gaius, when I wasn't even trying. Now I wish I'd paid better attention. I have helped a few of my neighbors with some of the herbal remedies I do remember, mostly for headaches and stomachaches and such._

_ My mother sends her love also, and says you are welcome to visit us any time. Of course I would like that as well. Give a big hug from me to Gwen and Mary from the kitchens, and of course, yourself._

_Love, Merlin_

_Dear Merlin,_

_ I am glad you are doing so well. It pleases my heart that you are using your herbal knowledge to help your village. I am sending you a book that may help you with a few other simple remedies._

_ Nothing much has changed here at court. We all miss you, of course. There is a tournament planned for next week, so you can imagine all the fuss and preparation going on. Everyone is overworked and on edge, but it will all work out in the end. It always does._

_ Of course I would love to visit you and your mother, but even if King Uther would grant me leave for a vacation of such length, I fear my old bones are no longer up to such a journey. We will have to make do with our correspondence. I do treasure your letters, my boy, and keep them in a safe place where I can read them over again whenever I find myself missing you, which is often. Enjoy the book, keep yourself safe, and of course give my love to your dear mother. _

_Love, Gaius_

Merlin refolded the letter and leafed through the slim volume. Yes, this would definitely be useful. It was written for novices, like him, but seemed to cover a lot of remedies. He flipped through it to see what it said about headaches. He was getting a terrible one right now, sharp stabbing pains, worsening very quickly. It suddenly became too painful to read, even to keep his eyes open, and Merlin got up from the table and staggered to his bed.

"Merlin! Are you ill?" asked his mother in alarm, wiping her hands on a towel. She had just finished cleaning up after dinner, and the sight of her son stumbling and collapsing on his bed had Hunith racing across the room in seconds.

"Headache," Merlin mumbled, "Bad. Sleep now." He pulled his blanket over his head to shut out as much light as possible, and was asleep within minutes. Hunith felt his wrists, took off his boots to try to make him more comfortable, and then, feeling rather helpless, picked up the herb book Gaius had sent. She glanced through it while keeping an eye on her son, just in case he needed her. But Merlin slept very deeply, not moving a muscle. After a time, Hunith blew out the remaining candles and went to bed herself.

**Merlin opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a forest, behind a tree. There was some moonlight, but it didn't help much; the dark was oppressive. He could hear yelling and the clash of swords nearby. Merlin crept toward the sounds, determined to stay hidden for as long as possible. Reaching a small clearing, he realized that he was watching several of Camelot's knights fighting a small group of what appeared to be bandits. He quickly identified which knight was Arthur, fighting off two bandits simultaneously (no surprise there). But then something went wrong, and Merlin was horrified to see the prince go down. Several of the bandits were also down, and the rest were starting to flee. Most of the knights gave chase. Sir Robert dropped down next to Arthur.**

"**Sire, let me help," Robert was saying. But Arthur was shaking his head, holding his hands to his wounded left side. His breathing was ragged.**

"**Help the others finish off the rest of the bandits," Arthur ordered. "Take no prisoners."**

**Sir Robert looked as if he wanted to protest, but then saluted his prince and quickly followed his comrades.**

**Merlin stepped out from behind his tree and ran over to Arthur. He reached for Arthur's hands and tried to move them, to see the wound. Arthur opened his eyes. "Merlin?" he whispered. "What are you doing here?"**

"**Arthur, let me help you," Merlin begged, keeping his voice down. "Let me see where you're hurt."**

"**There's nothing you can do," Arthur said resignedly. "It's a mortal wound."**

"**You can't be sure of that!" cried Merlin, panic-stricken. "Maybe I can use my magic to heal you. At least let me try! What can it hurt?"**

**Arthur was too weak to argue, enough so that Merlin could push his hands away easily, and he was horrified to see that the wound was indeed as bad as Arthur had said it was. The prince lost consciousness as Merlin put both hands on the deep gash in Arthur's side and drew all his magic to him. He centered it into a warm, healing, fluid sensation, and visualized the damage closing up, cleanly knitting itself together. All too soon, though, Merlin heard the other knights returning. His time had run out. Merlin reached out and shook his prince's shoulder. "Arthur," he said, "I couldn't heal it all, but I did a lot. I think you're out of danger now. Gaius will be able to do the rest." Arthur's eyes opened and held his own. "I have to go, your knights are returning. I'm sorry I couldn't do more." And Merlin bolted for the trees, getting safely hidden just in time. He watched the knights checking their prince's wounds, binding them, getting ready to go home. And all the while, their voices became less distinct, and their bodies seemed to turn somewhat transparent. What had been so vivid was now completely surreal, and yet… **

Merlin jerked awake and sat up in his bed, breathing hard. Had it really happened? Or just been a bad dream? Maybe a prophecy he should warn Arthur about? (Although Merlin had never had prophetic dreams before.) One thing was certain: his headache was completely gone.

Quietly, so as not to wake his mother, Merlin made himself some tea and began to write a letter to Gaius. Gauis would know from the description of the event and the wound if the dream had been real. If so, then it appeared Merlin could still fulfill his destiny, even from far away. _That_ would be an interesting twist, considering all the Great Dragon had put Merlin through to keep him close to Arthur's side for so long.

If, on the other hand, Arthur had _not_ fought bandits and been injured, perhaps the dream might be a prophecy like Morgana's dreams, and there might still be time to warn Arthur and prevent the fatal wound. Of course, it might just be pure rubbish, Merlin simply feeling guilty because he was no longer there to protect his prince, and his guilt was coming out in his dreams. But somehow he couldn't believe that. It was only the most vivid dream he had ever had in his entire life. Merlin refused to believe it was rubbish. He finished his letter, drank the last of his tea, and went back to bed.

_Dear Merlin,_

_I received your letter about the dream you had. Coincidentally, Arthur __was__ injured by bandits in a similar way around the same time. He is recuperating, and will be back to his usual self in very short order. He has not mentioned anything unusual about how he received his injury, although I must say, he seemed to have lost more blood than I would have expected. Your letter explained a lot. I have not asked him about the circumstances of his wound, nor do I intend to. But I believe that you did somehow save his life. I do not understand how this is possible, but perhaps we should just be grateful that it is and not ask too many questions about it._

_You have urged me to burn your letters rather than keep them, Merlin, but it gives me great comfort to reread them when I am missing you, which, I must admit, is quite often. I haven't been able to bring myself to destroy them. Trust me when I say I am keeping them in a __very__ safe place._

_I hope the herb book is serving you well. I am pleased that your village has finally begun to feel like a home to you again. Everyone needs a place he can call home, Merlin. I hope that someday you can return to this home as well._

_Be well, my dear boy,_

_Gaius_

Merlin tucked the most recent letter from Gaius in with the rest. He had a lot to think about. Apparently, his dream _had_ somehow been real, and he had managed to get to Arthur when he was needed most. It was both a comforting and terrifying thought. Comforting, because maybe Merlin could still fulfill his destiny and keep Arthur safe. Even more comforting, because he now knew he had actually been there with Arthur, at his side where he belonged, and had eased his pain. But terrifying, because how on earth did his body DO that? How did he know when Arthur needed him, and where to go? How had he gotten there? Did he actually physically go? Or was part of him still in his bed here in Ealdor? Just trying to work out the problem made him a little queasy, so he firmly pushed the thoughts out of his mind for a time and made a pot of tea. It was mending day, after all, and it was Merlin's turn to host. The women and teenage girls (and a few men now, too) would be along soon. Merlin had thought up some new court stories to share, one of them involving Prince Arthur, the Lady Morgana, a state dinner, a thoroughly confused piglet wearing a lace bonnet, and a not-at-all amused King Uther. Oh, yes, and time in the stocks for Merlin, though it really hadn't been his fault at all!

xxxxx

**concrit welcome**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: A huge thank you to WitchyWeasel, who informed me that Sir Leon did indeed survive into season 3. (Oh, to be in the UK right now!) Exit Sir Robert, enter Sir Leon for a tiny cameo appearance in this chapter. (Maybe I'll keep Sir Robert around for another story I'm working on, though.)**

**BBC, not me**

**Chapter Six**

_Dear Gaius,_

_I have been in Ealdor for ten months now, and although I think of Camelot often, I no longer wake up every morning feeling like I am in the wrong place. It took all this time, but I have finally accepted that I belong here after all. The long winter helped with that, I suppose. It was a difficult one. Your herb book was literally a lifesaver for several of the villagers here. We did lose a few, though, to illness and to freezing temperatures. Winter in Ealdor is rather unforgiving. Getting through it together tends to bond a community tightly in a way I didn't understand or appreciate when I was a boy._

_But now spring is coming, and there is new hope arriving with the warmth and sunshine, and the new growth that nature will provide us. I take the children for rides on Whisper. We listen to the birds. And the world seems new and exciting again. I miss spring in Camelot, but I know I will enjoy spring in Ealdor. I am content with what I have here – my mother, who loves me for who I am, and my neighbors, who are now true friends. And that is quite a lot, I think._

_Give my love to my friends in Camelot for me. And don't forget to include yourself, Gaius._

_Love, Merlin._

The weather was warm, and the ground had thawed enough that the villagers could begin to work the soil in preparation for this year's planting. Merlin was helping, as was everyone in the village, young and old, with the ability to wield the necessary tools. Even Whisper, though usually a riding horse, had been pressed into service. But as Merlin worked, he began to feel uneasy. He couldn't quite define the feeling, so he kept working, but something was wrong; he could feel it. As the day went on, he became more and more unsettled. The sun would be going down soon, and the day's work would end, so Merlin decided to stop a bit early and go home. Halfway there, he felt it: a sharp stabbing pain in his head. He immediately recognized it as the same kind of headache he'd had the night of his dream; despite the overwhelming pain, he began to run. _Arthur's in trouble!_ The headache was quickly becoming intolerable, but he made it to his bed and crawled under the covers. He was asleep in seconds.

**He was standing in the Great Hall of the castle in Camelot, about halfway back. There was a banquet going on. Merlin looked down at himself – he seemed to be appropriately dressed. He looked at the person next to him. "Gaius!" he whispered in delight.**

"**Merlin?" replied his mentor in shock. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Are you out of your mind?"**

"**I think," whispered Merlin, "I'm having another dream. I just went to bed with an excruciating headache, and now I'm here. Do you hear a buzzing noise?"**

"**No," replied Gaius, "but if you're here, Arthur might be in danger. Should I try to warn him?"**

**Merlin was too busy with the buzzing to answer. It was getting louder by the second. Uther was standing now, raising his goblet for a toast, but Merlin couldn't even hear him. He scanned the crowd, trying to find the source of the noise. There! Across the hall, a man in blue was reaching into his left sleeve. At the front of the hall, Prince Arthur rose to say something, and at the same moment the man in blue whipped a dagger from his sleeve and threw it straight at Arthur's heart. Merlin's eyes flashed gold as he stopped the dagger in flight, not six inches from its intended target. It hovered in midair for several seconds, then dropped harmlessly to the banquet table.**

**There was a stunned silence. Then – pandemonium!**

"**Sorcery!" shouted Uther. "Bar the doors! No one gets out!"**

"**Did anyone see who threw the dagger," called out Arthur, over the babble of voices.**

**Merlin stared at the man in blue and ****pulled****. The man staggered and fell into the middle of the hall. "That's him," whispered Merlin to Gaius. "The dagger was in his left sleeve."**

"**You're sure?" asked Gaius.**

"**I saw him do it," confirmed Merlin.**

**Gaius stepped forward, pointing to the man in blue. "That's him, Sire. I saw him throw the dagger. He had it hidden in his sleeve."**

**Guards immediately took the man into custody. Uther was still demanding to know who and where the sorcerer was. Arthur, whose eyes had been searching the crowd, looked in the direction where Gaius had come from, and suddenly locked eyes with Merlin.**

**Merlin smiled at Arthur and bowed his head slightly. The colors were dimming, and sounds were muted. The Great Hall was becoming transparent. "I saw the sorcerer, Father," he heard Arthur say, as if from a great distance, "but he's already gone. He just…disappeared."**

And Merlin woke up in his bed in Ealdor, heart pounding, but all trace of his headache gone.

"We have to find the sorcerer!" Uther repeated for the umpteenth time. The banquet had ended quickly after the assassination attempt on the Crown Prince, and Arthur and Uther were arguing in the King's chambers.

"Father," said Arthur with as much patience as he could still manage, "we have the assassin in the cells. Doesn't it make sense to find out who he is, and why he tried to kill me? He may not have been working alone, someone may have hired him; we need to find out if I am still in danger and if there is a threat to anyone else!"

"There was a sorcerer in the Great Hall, using magic right under our noses. I will not allow that to go unpunished!" roared the king. "He must be found and put to death for his crime."

"Father, please listen," begged Arthur. "Even if we knew who the sorcerer was, we couldn't catch him. He made himself disappear from the banquet! We wouldn't be able to hold him."

"I cannot make any exceptions. The law is the law," Uther said stubbornly. "If we cannot catch _this_ particular sorcerer, we'll round up all those we suspect of having ties to sorcerers and druids and arrest _them_. We will set an example. Magic will never be tolerated in any form in Camelot."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. His father was missing the point completely, and he wasn't thinking at all clearly. Arthur tried to speak in a calm and reasonable manner. "Yes, the sorcerer used magic tonight," he said quietly, "and that magic saved my life. If he had not been there in the Great Hall, I would now be dead."

"You don't know that," argued Uther angrily. "The dagger might have missed a vital area. Gaius may have been able to save you. You can't know what would have happened."

Arthur stared at his father in disbelief. "Do you hear yourself?" he demanded. "You would rather that dagger have hit me than have had the sorcerer there to save me?"

"I will not allow sorcery of any kind in my kingdom," Uther repeated stubbornly.

Arthur felt a rage fill him as never before. He had to take several breaths before he could speak, and then his words were deceptively quiet. "I know how much you hate magic," he said. "Since I was a young boy, I listened to what you taught me about the evils of sorcery, and I followed your example, because you are my father, and I respected and trusted you. I have obeyed your orders where magic is concerned, even when I didn't agree with them, and when we recently had violent disagreements on the subject, I came to you and humbled myself, begging your forgiveness in front of everyone. I have followed your laws faithfully ever since, without exception, because you are my king, and your word is law. I know that I have often disappointed you, that I have not always been the son you might have wished for. But after you killed the Black Knight, you told me I meant more to you than anything else in this world. I began to think we might be able to have a real father and son relationship like I've always wished for. I see now that I was wrong."

"Arthur, that's not what I meant," Uther began.

Arthur glared at his father, his king. "No, I believe it is exactly what you meant. Your hatred of magic is stronger than anything. It poisons everything good in your life, and leaves room for nothing else. No matter how much you love me, you will always hate magic more. I have finally accepted that this is a fight I cannot win. So as of right now, I no longer have a father. And you no longer have a son." Arthur turned on his heel and walked out of the room, ignoring Uther's demands for him to stop, to come back, even his threats to call the guards. He considered going to his chambers, but there were a few things he had to do first, especially if the king planned to make good on his threat to arrest him. His first stop had to be the dungeon.

Sir Leon was guarding the prisoner, along with the usual guards. Arthur motioned him aside, where they could speak undisturbed. It turned out that the assassin had been only too willing to talk, and that he had been seeking revenge for his daughter Rebecca's death at Uther and Arthur's hands several months ago. She had been innocent of sorcery, he claimed, and everyone knew it. He had been planning his revenge for a long time. Arthur sighed. It was a familiar story. He remembered Rebecca very well. Arthur had known she was completely innocent; he had fought for her, but in the end there had been nothing he could do. He spared a look of pity for the man in the cell, shook off his memories for now, and bid good evening to Sir Leon.

Arthur had one more stop he had to make, one more confrontation, and this was probably going to be another difficult one. He knocked on Gaius' door, waited for permission to enter, and walked in looking calmer than he felt.

"Prince Arthur," Gaius said. "How may I assist you?

Arthur stepped further into Gauis' chambers, closing the door behind him. "Where is he, Gaius?" he demanded.

"Where is who, Sire?" the physician asked innocently.

Arthur drew his sword and pointed it the elderly man's heart. "You know exactly who I mean. Merlin. Where is he?"

"Merlin is in Ealdor, Your Highness," Gaius said easily, as if there were no blade threatening his very life and no angry prince holding said blade even closer to his chest.

"He was at the banquet this evening. You and I both saw him. Now where is he? I warn you, I will not ask again!" Arthur's face showed grim determination.

Gaius nodded. "Yes, he was at the banquet. Now he is back in Ealdor. I _can_ explain, if you would kindly put your sword away. Unless you plan to use it, that is." And he stared into Arthur's eyes until the younger man finally backed down and sheathed his sword.

"It's impossible for Merlin to have been at the banquet and be back in Ealdor already, you know," said Arthur irritably. "It takes days on foot…"

"Before you go any further, Arthur, I think there's something you should see. Sit down a moment." He walked over to a few stacks of books, removed a small, unassuming volume from the middle of a pile, and took out a sheaf of papers. Arthur, who had resumed pacing, stopped and stared.

"Are those letters?" he asked. "From Merlin?" Gaius nodded affirmatively to both questions.

Arthur sat down with an unprincely thud. "May I read them?"

"I would rather you not," said Gaius hesitantly, "as they are personal. I will tell you he is doing well. However, there is one letter that I believe you _must_ read." Having found the page in question, he handed it to Arthur.

Arthur read about Merlin's dream. Twice. Then he put down the letter and put his face in his hands for a moment. "I thought it was an hallucination," he said, as if to himself. "I had convinced myself that I had been wrong about the extent of the damage, and that while I waited for the other knights to return, I imagined Merlin coming to help me, like he used to." He looked at Gaius. "It was real?"

"Yes, Sire. And it was real tonight." The elderly physician sat down across from his prince. "I was at the banquet, and suddenly noticed Merlin beside me. He told me he had just gone to bed with a headache, and found himself here. He said he was hearing a loud buzzing noise. When he found the source of the noise, he saw the assassin, just in time to stop the dagger from reaching you. He showed me who the assassin was, and by the time I looked over to him again, he was just…gone."

"I saw him," said Arthur. "He smiled at me and just faded away, like mist. First he was real, solid, and then I could see through him, and then he wasn't there any more. How did he do that?"

"I don't know," answered Gaius kindly. "You and Merlin share a very deep bond. Perhaps distance does not matter, and he can somehow sense when you need him through that bond. His magic is very powerful, especially where you are concerned."

"That 'two sides of the same coin' thing he told me about?" Arthur muttered.

"Exactly," answered Gaius. "Part of him must be with you, even when he is not. It's the only explanation I can think of. There is a lot about Merlin's magic that I do not understand."

"But doesn't that… scare you?" asked Arthur, hesitantly. After all, princes weren't supposed to admit to feeling fear.

"You needn't be afraid of Merlin, Arthur," said Gauis gently. "You know he would never hurt you."

"But, the things he can do," said Arthur. "Don't you find them frightening?"

"No more than I find the things you can do with a sword frightening," said Gaius with a smile. "Unless I am your enemy, that is." Arthur looked unconvinced. Gaius sighed. "I know this is hard for you. Merlin has magic. But he hasn't changed. He is the same person you always knew, the same person you trusted with your life, the person I daresay you called friend. You know more about him now. But he is no different than he always was. Ready to be there for you at a moment's notice."

"Ready to serve me until the day he dies," said Arthur quietly, remembering. Gaius nodded. "He keeps saving my life, Gaius. I _know_ his magic is good. And the hell of it is, I'll never be able to convince…" he trailed off.

"Your father, Sire?" asked Gaius.

Arthur held his head in his hands. "I disclaimed him tonight, Gaius. I told him he was no longer my father. He hates magic more than he can ever love me, and I'm tired of fighting for his affection. His hatred of magic poisons everything else in his life. So I disclaimed him. And I'm feeling so lost right now, I don't know what to do."

Gaius tried to hide his shock from the young prince, and reached across to take one of his hands in both his own. "Arthur," he said quietly, "I know for a fact that your father loves you more than anything on this earth."

"But not more than he hates magic," Arthur said miserably. "You should have heard him, Gaius, going on about 'the sorcerer at the banquet.' Never mind that his magic saved my life. He said he would rather the dagger had hit me than the sorcerer been in the Great Hall."

"I cannot believe Uther actually meant that," protested Gaius.

"He meant it," stated Arthur tonelessly.

There was a short knock on the door, and King Uther came striding in. "Gaius, I need to speak with you," he began, but stopped when he saw Arthur sitting there. "Perhaps I will come back later," the king said frostily.

"No, no, come right in, Your Majesty," said Gaius cheerfully, getting up and ushering the king to the seat he had vacated. Arthur stood to leave, but Gaius stopped him with a firm "Sit. Now!"

The elderly physician shook his head at the two men sitting across from (and trying to ignore) each other. "You are two of the most stubborn people I know, and you both have severe tempers. Indeed, Uther, yours is legendary. You need to talk to each other, without shouting, I might add, and more importantly, you both need to _listen_ to each other. Now I am going to go on my rounds, despite the late hour, and you two are going to sit here and talk. And neither one of you," he added severely, "is leaving this room until you are father and son again. Do I make myself clear?" He did not expect, nor did he receive, an answer. "If you want some tea, the pot is over there." And he gathered his things and swept out of the room.

xxxxx

**A/N: I'm not sure if "disclaimed" is the proper word for Arthur rejecting Uther. There's probably an official term somewhere. But it was the best one I could find.**

**concrit welcome**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers, and especially those who helped me find a better word for "disclaimed" in the previous chapter. Persephone of Peridot came up with "renounced," which I like, but the consensus was that I should have used "disowned." I may go back into the chapter and change it at some point. **

**This is a short chapter, all Arthur/Uther (as per Gaius). But don't worry, Merlin will return in Chapter Eight.**

**As always: BBC, not me.**

**Chapter Seven**

["You two are going to sit here and talk. And neither one of you," Gaius added severely, "is leaving this room until you are father and son again. Do I make myself clear?" And he gathered his things and swept out of the room.]

Arthur looked after Gaius in shock. Nobody, but nobody spoke to the king that way! He sidled a look at Uther's face to see how he was taking it, and was shocked to see the corners of his mouth turning up. In seconds, the king was chuckling. Arthur stared uncomprehendingly.

Uther said with a smile, "I can't remember the last time somebody gave me a swift kick in the backside. I suppose it's about time someone did." He looked at Arthur with a much more serious expression. "Did you really mean what you said to me tonight, son?"

"I did," Arthur replied, chin raised in defiance.

Uther sighed. "Well, I guess that's two swift kicks today, then. Gaius wants us to talk. Will you hear me out? Please?" Arthur nodded slowly, and Uther took a deep breath and began. "I was wrong about the sorcerer at the banquet. I am grateful he was there to save your life. I said what I did because it frightened me that a sorcerer could get so close to us undetected. And my fear came out in my temper, and I said something unforgivable to you. I am sorry, Arthur."

Arthur couldn't remember the last time he had heard his father apologize to anyone. Nor had he ever heard him admit fear. Arthur found himself at a loss for words. Finally, he said, "You do know we won't be able to catch that sorcerer?"

"I know," said Uther ruefully. "And that disturbs me greatly. The sorcerer tonight did something good. But if he can come and go as he pleases, then there are sorcerers with evil intent who can do the same. I find that…more than frightening."

"Why haven't you ever spoken like this to me before?" asked Arthur.

"Kings cannot show fear," announced Uther. "Not even to ourselves," he continued more quietly. "It is a sign of weakness. But I suppose everyone feels fear now and then. With me, it comes out in my temper. So I say and do things I don't mean, things I cannot take back. As king, my word is law, my orders must be obeyed, and nobody expects apologies. Apologies, too, show weakness. But that does not mean that I never regret things I have said or done in a fit of temper. I… have had many regrets."

"Such as?" queried Arthur. He might never have a chance for this kind of discussion again, and he was damn well going to make his father work for it!

"Such as suggesting that the dagger wouldn't have killed you tonight, Arthur! Such as treating you as if you are invincible, and expecting you to be so. Of course I know you are not, and yet the alternative…it is unthinkable…" Uther's voice had dropped to a whisper. "I don't think I could go on without you, my son. And so, I have convinced myself that I shall never have to. In doing so, I have done you a great disservice. And for that, I fear that no apology I could give you could ever be great enough. If something happened to you – if you were to" he choked on the word "die – I would never forgive myself. I love you, Arthur. Even when we have fought, and you have pushed me to the point where I have locked you up for disobedience, I have always loved you. And you have _never_ been a disappointment to me."

Arthur was startled to see that Uther's eyes were wet. He started to reach for his father's hand, but pulled back. "Do you ever worry that you have executed innocent people for sorcery?" he asked instead.

Uther took a deep breath. "I do what must be done to protect the kingdom," he stated firmly.

"That is not what I asked."

"Nevertheless, it is my answer," said Uther dismissively. "When you are king you will understand."

"Gods, I hate when you say that!" Arthur declared angrily, getting up and starting to pace. "All it really means is 'Shut up, Arthur, the discussion is over!'"

The king stared at his son for a moment, and started chuckling again. "You're right," he finally said. "I hated it when my father said it to me, too. I had forgotten."

Arthur paused and looked at the king. "Well?" Uther motioned toward the bench, and Arthur reluctantly sat once again.

"Yes, sometimes I have had innocent people executed," Uther confirmed. "Generally I feel it is better to be certain that magic is eradicated, and better a few innocents be killed, than one evil sorcerer go free. But there have been times that I have realized too late that I have committed a true injustice. Those instances haunt me, Arthur. But they are done, and the best I can do is try to put them behind me."

"No, Father," objected Arthur firmly, "the best you can do is try to learn from those mistakes so they won't happen again."

Uther thought a moment, and then nodded. "You are right, of course. I keep forgetting you are no longer a boy, and have acquired no small wisdom of your own."

"I can help you, Father, if you will just listen to me!" Arthur implored. "You have Advisors. Can I not be one of them? I am Crown Prince and will someday be King. I think I am ready for the responsibility of being one of your Advisors."

"Perhaps you are, at that," Uther said thoughtfully, turning the idea over in his mind. "I will consider it. Meanwhile, the next time you need me to listen to you, and I dismiss you out of hand, remind me to have a 'Gaius' discussion, and I will try to listen to you with my mind open. Agreed?"

Arthur grinned. "Yes, Father. And I will do the same."

Uther looked into Arthur's eyes. "You have just called me "Father" several times. Does that mean I have a son again?"

Arthur smiled. "I suppose it does. I quite like the father I am getting to know tonight. Perhaps we can talk like this more often?" He hoped he didn't sound like he was pleading – even though he knew he was.

Uther saw the hope in Arthur's eyes, and heard it in his voice. _It should not have taken so many years for us to talk this way_, he thought ruefully, and nodded. "I would also like that, very much, my son." He stood. "Now where is that teapot?"

When Gaius returned a quarter of an hour later, he found the two laughing over some funny stories from Uther's own childhood, and drinking tea like two old friends. He actually had to shoo them out so that he could go to bed, which he did with a very satisfied smile.

xxxxx

**concrit welcome**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: This is the next-to-last chapter, and although it begins with Arthur, Gaius, and Uther, Merlin returns to the story byl the end. (And stays through the final chapter, as well.)**

**BBC, not me!**

**Chapter Eight**

Arthur began to spend occasional afternoons with Gaius, sharing a pot of tea and talking, or sometimes just sitting together quietly. Gaius knew that something was troubling the young prince greatly, and the elderly physician wanted to be there for him in any way possible. Arthur trusted that what he said would never be repeated. Both men began to look forward to their time together. One day, Arthur was finally able to articulate the grief he had hidden for so long. Gaius listened, helped Arthur work through his demons, and offered his proverbial shoulder. Many talks and pots of tea later, Arthur was finally able to make the decision that had eluded him all those months ago.

Arthur waited a full six weeks before approaching his father. He wanted to be certain he had all his arguments straight, and be ready to counter any objections. He needed to be sure that there was no possibility that King Uther would connect Arthur's request with the events of the fateful banquet. (The assassin had been hanged the next day and had been long forgotten by everyone, it seemed, except Arthur.) Camelot had been quiet of late, the king was in a good mood, and Arthur finally decided that today would be the day. He sent a formal request asking if he might dine alone with the king.

Arthur felt a little nervous, eating alone with his father – this was more Morgana's thing, he thought. Even though they were on better terms now, Arthur wasn't quite sure how to begin discussing what was on his mind. He felt Uther's eyes on him, and raised his own to meet them.

"I have a feeling," said the king, "that you wished to do more than just dine with me this evening. Is something troubling you?"

Arthur swallowed. "I thought we might have a talk," he said. When the king nodded slowly, he amended, "a _Gaius_ sort of talk."

"Ahhh," Uther said, laying down his utensils and wiping his lips with his napkin. "One where we both leave our tempers at the door and _listen_ to each other."

Arthur managed a weak smile. "Yes. I want to talk to you about friendship." Noting his father's look of surprise, he pressed on, "You've always said kings and princes cannot really have true friends."

"Yes, I have said that," affirmed Uther. "Many people will try to be your friend, Arthur. But you have already experienced this, that they want to be friends with the title, not the person." Arthur nodded. He had learned that lesson painfully more than once in his youth. "If you have friends, they can be used against you, held for ransom, they may betray you, all manner of things. And there is always the possibility you will have to send a friend into battle, perhaps even into certain death. It is better not to have close friends, Arthur. It is lonely, sometimes painfully so. But it is the best way."

Arthur took a deep breath. "Yet you have had friends. I know you consider Gaius to be so. And I have heard you say that Morgana's father was your closest friend. That he stood up to you when nobody else would, that he was honest with you, and that he made you a better person for it. You have said you valued his friendship. I know you sent him into battle and he didn't return, and that was very difficult for you. Do you wish you and he had not been such close friends?"

Uther sat quietly for a long time. Arthur thought that perhaps his father would not answer. But finally he said, "No. I would not have traded a minute of our friendship. Gorlois did make me a better man, Arthur. If he had lived longer, I might have made fewer rash decisions. I might have been a better king. I long for his counsel, and I miss him every day." He pinned his eyes to Arthur's. "And I think you are here tonight to tell me that you also have such a friend. Am I right?"

Arthur's jaw dropped. "I…how did you know?"

"I have eyes, Arthur. It's that skinny manservant you used to have, Merlin, I believe." At his son's wide-eyed nod, he continued, "I don't know why he left your service, but I have seen a difference in you since he's been gone. Just as I saw how you changed when he arrived. You grew up, Arthur. You stopped caring just for yourself and began to care about others. You took your responsibilities much more seriously. You developed a conscience and made decisions that made me proud. Even when we fought each other, had our worst battles, even when I felt the need to lock you up for your disobedience, I knew that you were becoming a man that would someday be a great king. I have a feeling that Merlin had a lot to do with that, that he challenged you the way Gorlois used to challenge me. I would not have expected that kind of friendship from a mere servant; believe me, that idea took me a _very_ long time to accept. But then, the loyalty he always showed you was extraordinary." Uther took a sip of wine before continuing. "Merlin once told me that there was a bond between you. I am glad it still exists."

Whatever reaction Arthur had been expecting from his father, it hadn't been this! He had prepared himself for denial, shouting, ultimatums, and worse, but complete acceptance had never even occurred to him. Arthur swallowed and got his bearings. "Our bond _is_ strong, Father," he said solemnly. "We are as brothers, despite the difference in status. Merlin left to go home to take care of his mother for a while. It has been close to a year. She is doing well now, and I would very much like to ask Merlin to come back to Camelot, to resume his duties as my manservant. Do I have your permission to leave for a few days to go to Ealdor? I would prefer to ask him in person." Arthur held his breath while he waited for the king's answer.

Uther studied his son's face. Then he smiled. "Of course, my son. Leave in the morning, if you wish."

"Thank you, Father!" said the delighted prince.

"And while we finish our dinner," Uther continued with a twinkle in his eye, "we will continue to talk about the realities of kings having friends. I don't want you to have to wait until you are king to understand."

The rest of the meal passed quietly, sometimes seriously, sometimes with more levity, but Uther and Arthur both learned a little more about friendship – with each other – that evening.

Merlin and Hunith were moving together in rhythm, working the dough, preparing the loaves for their first rising. Merlin loved baking bread. As a child, he had always felt that there was something miraculous about physically putting his own energy into a loaf of bread, feeling the consistency of the dough change until the texture was just right, waiting for it to rise, kneading it some more, waiting some more (he hated the waiting parts), smelling the baking bread, and practically hopping up and down waiting (again!) until it was ready so he could eat some, hot from the oven. Merlin smiled at the memories as he turned his dough in the other direction and continued kneading.

He heard the children running outside, yelling that a rider was coming, but he paid no attention to them. He was up to his wrists in flour and bread dough; somebody else would handle it. It was probably just someone passing through in any case. But then he heard the knock at the door.

Hunith wiped her hands on her apron and went to answer. She was shocked to see Prince Arthur standing in front of her, a smile on his face. "Good morning, Hunith," he said in the voice she remembered so well. "It is good to see you again. Is Merlin home?"

"Oh, of course, come in, come in, Your Highness," said Hunith, flustered. "Merlin is over there. We're just, um, making bread."

"Please, call me Arthur," said the prince, and Hunith blushed prettily and nodded.

Merlin stopped kneading and looked at Arthur in shock. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"And good morning to you, too, Merlin," answered Arthur. "Nice to see your manners haven't changed."

Merlin felt his ears go a bit pink, but he still spoke with no warmth in his voice. "Good morning. Welcome to my home. What are you doing here?"

"Merlin!" chided Hunith, as she put her dough in a bowl, covered it with a towel, and set it aside to rise. She reached over to do the same to Merlin's, as he wiped his hands clean.

Arthur pulled off his riding gloves and stepped closer to Merlin. "I was hoping we might talk, Merlin, about several things. First, I owe you quite a large apology; second, I want to know if we're still friends; and if so, then third, I would like to ask you to come back to Camelot with me."

Merlin felt a lump in his throat and didn't trust himself to talk, so he just nodded. Arthur smiled. "Would you rather stay here, or take a walk?"

"Walk, please," Merlin managed, and they left the house together, Hunith beaming as she closed the door behind them.

"So, you make bread," Arthur said in an amused tone of voice.

"If you want to eat it, you've got to make it first," replied Merlin reasonably. "Besides, I like making bread. It feels good. I could show you how, if you want," he said hopefully.

"Oh, I doubt I'd be any good at that." Arthur rolled his eyes. "What else do you do around here?"

"Work in the fields mostly, but I also help out with whatever needs to be done. Build houses, mend broken things, make toys for the children, darn socks, milk cows, cure headaches…" Arthur had stopped walking and was looking at Merlin in astonishment. "Well," said Merlin somewhat defensively, "all those chores I did for you gave me a lot of new skills, and everything else, I just figure out as I go. I fit in here now, Arthur. I never did when I was young."

Arthur was silent for a while as they continued walking. He had been so busy thinking of himself that it had never occurred to him to think of Merlin's point of view. Merlin had made a life for himself in Ealdor during this almost-year. Maybe Merlin was comfortable enough here now that he wouldn't even _want_ to return to Camelot. That was a disturbing thought. If Merlin turned him down, Arthur didn't know what he was going to do!

**xxxxx**

**Next up, in the final chapter: questions finally answered, and Merlin's decision.**

**as always, concrit welcome**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Here it is, the final chapter. I enjoyed writing it. I hope it lives up to your expectations!**

**The usual disclaimer: BBC, not me**

**Chapter Nine**

Arthur and Merlin had been walking for a while. Merlin had many questions, but he was going to force Arthur to make the first move. Arthur had a lot to say, but wasn't sure how to begin. And therefore both were silent.

"I hurt you," Arthur finally said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"I never meant to. I swear, Merlin, I was planning to call you back to Camelot." Arthur sounded as if he were pleading for his friend to believe him.

Merlin kicked at a loose stone on the path. "Why didn't you, then?"

"I started to. Honestly, I did. I went to Gaius and talked to him about magic, and about you. He helped me with those last nagging doubts about magic corrupting good people. We talked about how I could break my father's laws and not feel like I was betraying him. Gaius really helped me with that." They had reached a clearing, and Arthur sat down on the grass. Merlin followed suit. "All I had to do was set up a couple of escape plans in case you got caught, and then I'd write to you and you'd come home."

"What changed your mind?" asked Merlin. When Arthur didn't answer, Merlin began to get annoyed. "Come on, Arthur. I knew you might not want me back. I didn't expect it, but I knew it might happen. But what really hurt, what I couldn't understand, was why you didn't tell me the _reason_ I couldn't return to Camelot. All you said was 'I'm sorry.' Well, that's not good enough, Arthur." Merlin's voice began to rise with his anger. "I needed to know. Was it because you couldn't betray Uther? Was it because you were afraid of me? Were you worried I'd get caught? Was it because I'd lied to you all that time and you didn't trust me anymore? Why, Arthur?"

Arthur looked at Merlin with such a bleak expression that Merlin stopped talking. Something had happened, and it must have been bad. "Arthur," he said quietly, "I'm your friend. Whatever happened, I'll understand. And if it needs it, I'll forgive you."

"In the first five days after you left," Arthur began, unable to look at his friend, his voice barely above a whisper, "there were three executions. The first was the next morning at dawn, a woman who secretly made and sold love potions. A dissatisfied customer turned her in on the guarantee of amnesty," he said bitterly. "By law, the customer was just as guilty for buying the potion, but by betraying the 'sorceress,' he got to keep his head, while she lost hers. That same afternoon, a Druid was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. My father sentenced him to die the next morning. I argued with him about it, more than I should have." Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes at the memory.

"You were thinking of me," said Merlin. Again, not a question.

"Druids are harmless. They practice good magic, I am certain of it. I have argued in favor of the Druids before, and lost every time. I always knew when to stop. But this time, I didn't. I kept trying to convince my father he was wrong. He was in a rage, but I kept at him. It wasn't until he threatened to charge me with speaking treason that I finally gave up. But I didn't attend the execution, so Father was still furious with me."

"You haven't always given in," Merlin reminded Arthur. "You helped the Druid boy escape that time. You mustn't forget that."

Arthur smiled ruefully. "Oh, it got worse," he said. "Two days later, a twelve-year-old girl named Rebecca was accused of being a witch. She was a little different from the other children, and they used to make fun of her and call her names, that sort of thing. One of them thought it might be funny to call her a witch, and it caught on. It reached the attention of a few of the guards, and they arrested her."

Merlin listened in growing horror. He had been an odd child, often singled out for name-calling and other abuse. He could see where this was going, and it was unthinkable!

"One of the children actually had a conscience and told one of my knights what had really happened, and he told me," Arthur continued. "I tried to tell my father, but he wouldn't listen. I went to the other children, trying to get at the truth, but most were afraid of getting in trouble for lying about her. I managed to get the real story out of two more of them, but it did no good. My father insisted she die at dawn." Arthur drew a ragged breath. "Coming so soon after the Druid, there was no way Father was going to listen to _me_. The more I tried, the less he listened. I should have gotten someone else to plead her case, Sir Leon, or Gaius. She may have had a chance with one of them. But all I did was get her killed." Arthur put his face in his hands.

"You did the best you knew how at the time," Merlin said, trying to comfort his friend.

"No," answered Arthur sharply, looking Merlin in the eyes. "I didn't. I went too far, and Father had me arrested and locked up in the dungeon for speaking treason. He said I would stay there until I recanted my position to the entire court. When I refused, he…he left me chained to the wall, said if I was going to act like a common traitor he would treat me like one."

Merlin felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "You gave in then, didn't you?"

"No," said Arthur quietly. "Not then. When he came to me the next morning, I refused to speak to him at all. So he told me that he had decided to let the witch burn instead of having her beheaded. I raged at him, she was a child, she wasn't even _guilty_ of anything, he couldn't _burn_ her – but he stood firm. The only way to save her from the flames was for me to recant. So I did. I…I knelt in front of the king and the entire court and I begged for forgiveness."

As Arthur spoke, tears began to roll down his face, but he ignored them. "I said I had been wrong about magic, that all sorcerers were evil and must be eradicated from Camelot without exception. I _thanked_ my father for showing me the error of my ways and begged to be allowed in his royal presence once more. And every word hurt, Merlin. I felt like my soul was being torn out of me."

Arthur swiped a hand angrily across his wet cheeks before continuing bitterly, "And he said… he thanked me for finally admitting how wrong I had been, but it would take some time before I could earn his trust again, and that I could start regaining it at the execution that morning. And he led me onto the balcony, and they brought the poor little girl, Rebecca, out to the block, and they got her ready, and my father turned to me, and he said, 'You do it, Arthur.' And I felt so numb, I just raised my arm, and dropped it, and the axe came down and she was dead. I killed her, Merlin. I killed an innocent twelve-year-old girl. I haven't opposed him about sorcery since, not at one single execution. Gods, Merlin, I've turned into my father!"

Merlin reached for Arthur and held the now sobbing prince, just as Arthur had done for him all those months ago. Merlin shed his own tears as well, his heart aching at his friend's humiliation and grief and pain. When they both finally quieted, they lay down side by side and watched the clouds floating and shifting overhead.

"I couldn't have you come back to Camelot, Merlin," Arthur finally said. "After what I'd done, what I'd had to say to the king and his court, I felt like I'd betrayed you along with that child. I felt such guilt. And I knew I wouldn't be able to keep you safe if you got caught. So I made you stay in Ealdor. I couldn't tell you why; I was too ashamed to tell you what I'd done, what I'd become."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," answered Merlin, watching a sheep cloud change into a bunny. "You did what you had to do. I know what Uther is like on the subject of magic. Once he'd made up his mind that she was going to die, _nobody_ could have saved her. But you kept her from the flames, Arthur. You had to pay a terrible price to give her this gift, but it was the right thing to do, for both you and her."

Arthur sat up halfway and looked furiously down into Merlin's face. "Gift! I murdered that little girl, Merlin. How _dare_ you call it a gift?"

Merlin didn't move, but calmly continued watching the clouds shift. "Did you know that some people with magic can communicate without talking?" Ignoring Arthur's bemused look at the sudden change of topic, he continued, "We can speak by thinking, mind to mind. Sometimes, in distress, strong sorcerers will send out their thoughts so powerfully that almost _anyone_ with magic will hear them."

Merlin sat halfway up to face Arthur, mirroring his pose. His voice became hard. "Do you know how many executions have happened since I arrived in Camelot? Some of those killed _were_ strong users of magic. And I heard and felt them die. I _know_ what it feels like to be beheaded, and I know what it feels like to be put to the flames. Trust me, Arthur. You gave that child a gift!" Merlin flopped back on the ground. There, a cloud that looked like a dragon. Terrific. Just what he _didn't_ need.

Arthur had paled at Merlin's words. "You can feel them die? Just like it's happening to you?"

"Some of them. Not all. I'd been working on spells to block them out, when I left." Yup, still a dragon. He watched it until it changed into something completely unrecognizable. Much better. "You know, Arthur, there's something else you said that's completely wrong. You have _not_ turned into your father. Not even close!" Merlin spoke carefully. "Your father does what he does because he truly believes he is right. Afterwards, he feels satisfaction. You did what you did because you no longer had a choice. Afterwards you felt guilt and remorse. You are _not_ your father, Arthur."

"Perhaps," conceded Arthur after a moment. "You know the assassin you saved me from in your dream? It was Rebecca's father. Uther had him hanged. If I could just have saved her, he'd still be alive, too. They'd still be a family."

Merlin sat up. "Arthur, you have to let this go. It wasn't your fault. There were many things that contributed to a horrible tragedy. If you keep the guilt all for yourself, it will destroy you."

"That's what Gaius keeps telling me, too," Arthur admitted, still staring at the sky. "I think the reason I haven't been able to let go is because I needed to tell _you_ what I'd done. I became complicit in my father's hatred of magic, Merlin. I need to be sure you don't hate me for that."

Merlin smiled. "I could never hate you, Arthur. Resent you occasionally, call you a prat, sure, but never hate you." He hesitated. "I think of you as my brother. Don't take this the wrong way, okay, but I love you, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur sat up as well and looked seriously into Merlin's eyes. "I told my father that you and I are as brothers, also. He told me he already knew." He sighed. "Things have been different between him and me. After that execution, he stopped pushing me so much. We fought some, but not as hard. And then after the banquet when you saved me, we had a terrible fight, our worst ever, but eventually we came to an understanding. It's like we're finally beginning to be able to talk to each other."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" asked Merlin.

"Yes, very," said Arthur. "He's begun to listen to my opinions, not just dismiss them out of hand because they aren't his. I think he's finally realized I am an adult." Arthur began to chuckle. "Gaius sat us face to face and told us we were not to leave the room until we had sorted things out. Can you imagine anyone else talking to the king that way and getting away with it?" Merlin laughed at the thought. He certainly wouldn't have tried it – he liked his head where it was, thank you! Arthur continued, "If I'm lucky, he might just start listening to my opinions again – but _really_ listen this time. I think I can even keep you safe now, if it comes to that." He took a deep breath.

"So, Merlin, best friend and brother of mine," said Arthur, standing up, "how about coming home to Camelot with me and being my manservant again? I'll even raise your wages!"

Merlin rose too, and smiled. "I'd like that, Arthur, brother, best friend, and royal prat – under one condition."

"Hey, I didn't call you names!" protested Arthur. He looked at Merlin through narrowed eyes. "What's the condition?" he asked suspiciously.

"Help my mum and me finish making the bread," said Merlin with a mischievous grin.

"Oh, no, no, no, I can't do that! Remember Gwen and the chicken?"

Merlin swung his arm up and around Arthur's shoulders. "You want me, you make bread. It's called blackmail." They started walking back to Merlin's house.

Arthur groaned. "All right. And then you'll come home with me?

"Then I'll come home with you. Hey, did Uther really let you come all this way alone?"

"No," grumbled Arthur. "He has decided I'm no longer invincible. He sent two knights to protect me," Arthur scoffed. "I ordered them to camp about three hours away and wait for my return. But you know what that means, right?"

"What?"

"You still have Whisper? You're going to ride him back to Camelot?"

Merlin was confused. "Yeah…"

"Well," beamed Arthur, "between here and the knights, it'll be just two good friends, out for a ride, just for the fun of it."

Arthur was rewarded with Merlin's biggest ear-to-ear grin, and finally he felt that all was right with the world.

**END**

**xxxxx**

**Final A/N: When I started writing this story, it had been many years since I had attempted to write fiction of any real length or substance. It was so long ago, the internet didn't exist yet. (Yeah, I'm **_**that**_** old.) If it had, and there had been sites like this, maybe I would not have stopped writing in the first place. The support I've received from ****all**** of you – from those who have left reviews, alerted, favorited, messaged, and even the huge number who simply lurked – has been overwhelming. I was incredibly nervous when I posted the first chapter, and now I am in the middle of writing two more stories with other little plot bunnies hopping around for attention. So thank you, ****all**** of you, for reading, supporting, and helping me in the beginning of what I hope will be a new (rediscovered) part of my life.**

**As always, concrit welcome**


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